


Maladies of the Heart

by babyhulk



Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: Fluff, Humor, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Magical Realism, Misunderstandings, look Kez and Jos are magic basically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:23:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22207465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyhulk/pseuds/babyhulk
Summary: “I think Jos Buttler is dating our keeper,” Kane mutters to Adam, Marcus and Coults.Unfortunately for him, the general hum of noise in the dressing room falling and the music pausing between songs coincides and his sullen words are clear to the entire room.The entire team is staring at him.He falters.~~~The one where Kez might be magical, finds a friend in Jos and manages to convince everyone they're dating all before noon. Oh, and he's in love with Kane, but he's ignoring that. Which is why his magic is acting up and he's benched.Kane thinks it's a miracle he hasn't punched Jos Buttler for simply existing.
Relationships: Kane Richardson/Alex Carey
Comments: 17
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so a few things:
> 
> 1) Alex Carey is Kez, in the fics because that's what the boys call him and what I've gotten used to  
2) PBK stands for Pretty Boy Kane  
3) I'm a sucker for a good magical universe where the magic acts up because of emotions
> 
> So I hope you guys like it...welcome to rare pair hell ahaha
> 
> Enjoy!

The bathroom sink is purple. Or, less purple, and more a nauseating shade of fuchsia.

Another sneeze echoes across the tiles and Kez looks up mournfully, hands clenched by his sides now, to find his hair is electric blue. It makes his eyes almost glow in that weird ethereal way they do sometimes when he’s concentrating too hard, like they’re catching the light all the time where there is no light, a blue sapphire tilted into the sun. 

In short, not overly natural.

He wipes the tears off his face and blows his nose, washing his hands in the purple sink with a grimace.

Waking up sick on the morning of the second game against England is not what he wanted to do. He’d felt the tickle of it in the back of his throat last night, drank some of the honey lemon tea his mother had insisted he take with him, and prayed. Clearly not one god or ancestor was willing to listen. That it wasn’t just a normal cold, and instead an outpouring of transfiguration magic was worse.

Shirtless against the heat pouring off his skin, Kez trips mournfully back into the hotel room and sits on the bed with a sigh, glancing around the room. The air-conditioning is on its lowest setting, the fan blasting, the room slowly descending into the depths of winter. And yet, despite the buffeting icy wind from the unit fixed on the wall, Kez is still overheated.

He had woken up sneezing, nauseous and aching, joints creaking. The clock had read half-past four. It’s close to five in the morning now and Kez just wants to sleep.

The entire bed is a pale mint green with gold marbled through it. His phone is thankfully a slightly shimmering galaxy silver, slightly off from its usual black but explainable at a stretch.

But his favourite bat. His favourite bat is neon orange. How he’d manage to touch it while sneezing his way to the bathroom was a question he’d like answered.

In short, his head is pounding, this stupid fucking magical cold had come with a vengeance and he couldn’t step out of this room today, short of everyone finding out he was—well, magical.

_Your eyes are fucking unnaturally blue, Ty. I’ve never seen eyes this clear. _

Kez huffs a weak nasal laugh. If only he knew.

It builds in his nose again and Kez doubles over as the sneeze explodes out of him, spittle flying out of his mouth. Ugh. Gross.

He looks up blearily and rubs his pounding forehead.

The previously grey carpet is a dark blood red.

Shit.

He picks up his phone off the bed and with shaky hands, taps out a message to the only person he knows has any sort of hope of helping him. He just prays the man is awake this early on a match day.

_To: Jos Buttler _

_Hey mate, I’m sorry to bother you this early but you’re my only hope. I’ve got a...cold. A bad one. I’ve no idea what to do. I can’t leave this room, Jos. Everything is in different colours. Please. _

_Alex Carey._

He can’t play like this, he knows that. He cannot risk exposing himself by breaking down on the field or on the pitch, sneezing and turning the wicket pink or the gloves red.

He leans forward onto his knees with a groan as his temples throb. He has nothing with him against this besides the paracetamol he has already taken. Even that is slowly turning out to be useless against a magic-induced headache. He’s on foreign soil, he has no supplies and none of his teammates or their support staff know about his...abilities.

Except for Jos.

He had found out about Jos by accident. They had been shaking hands along the line-up after a game a year or so ago and Jos’ eyes had flared, what looked like lightning crackling through familiar unreal blue. Jos hadn’t realised then but Kez had approached him quietly at the party after the end of the series under the guise of talking about Jos’ explosive batting which had saved England the final game. Jos had laughed when Kez had mentioned his eyes, saying Kez’s own eyes had glowed just a smidge too bright, too sapphire blue in the fading sunlight. They’d had a thread of connection since then.

And now, thankfully, Jos’ response comes buzzing in. Kez peers at it with exhausted eyes.

_From: Jos Buttler _

_Hey Alex. Text your coach, you can’t play. What’s your room number? I need to grab a few things but I can be there in about fifteen. _

Kez almost moans in relief, tears springing up in his eyes. Thank god. He would owe Jos for the rest of his life.

He sends a stream of thankful nonsense and his room number, to which Jos replies with an amused emoji, and opens a message to JL. 

*

There’s a quiet knock on his door around quarter past five and Kez chokes back a cough as he strides to the door, wiping his arm across his nose.

Jos appears with a smile and a bag in his hands. His eyes go wide. “Oh shit, your eyes are glowing. And your hair is blue.”

Kez steps aside with a wheeze. “My bat is a highlighter, the carpet is red and my sink is purple,” he groans quietly.

The door clicks shut.

Jos’ laughter is still sleep-rough but his eyes are bright and awake. “I’ve got a few things to help but this has to work it’s way out of your system, Alex. Drugs aren’t gonna help.” 

Kez sighs. He had been afraid of that. “Thank you,” he says. “For coming up.”

Jos claps a hand to his arm and gets to work.

*

Down the hall, an insomniac Aaron Finch stares into the place where Jos Buttler had appeared and disappeared. Into Alex’s room.

He shakes his head clear, rubbing his eyes, certain that the lack of sleep and churning worry about the series was making him delusional. So delusional that English players were drifting across his vision like benevolent ghosts.

He needs to go to bed.

*

Kez sneezes.

The bowl in his hand is green, previously dull grey-white.

He sighs.

Jos laughs from where he’s sitting on the couch. “You’re not doing too bad. I was in my car and it turned from black to a neon yellow right on my driveway.”

Kez chokes out a laugh and takes a sip of the chicken soup that Jos has cobbled together somehow. It’s warm and comforting as it goes down. “Bet that would’ve been fun to explain.”

“Didn’t even have time. I cast a glamour over it in my next breath. It’s still yellow because I haven’t quite figured out how to turn it back,” he says, grinning.

“Oh Jesus,” Kez says, laughing. He takes another sip. “That’s a long time to hold a glamour even on a good day.”

A comfortable silence falls and Kez slowly drinks his soup, until Jos clears his throat.

“So who is it?”

Kez glances up off the still unfortunately blood-red floor into Jos’ curious blue eyes. “What?”

Jos’ lips waver into a brief smile. “The cold, Alex. It’s magical for a reason.” At Kez’s dumbfounded look, Jos lets out a soft laugh and scrubs a hand through his hair. “Alex, the cold flares up when you’re in love with someone and it’s gotten particularly bad, you’re tired, you just want—I think mum used the world heartsick, actually.”

“What?” Kez blurts out. His traitorous heart picks up, slamming into his ribs. “I’m not in love with anyone!”

Jos watches him for a moment. Then he sits back and crossed his arms. “I’m in love with Joe.”

Kez inhales the soup through his nose. Diving for the wad of tissues Jos had left on the bed, he heaves and chokes until he can breathe again. A sneeze turns the tissues splattered pink and orange.

“What?” He pants, staring at Jos. “You—Root?”

Jos’ eyebrows wrinkle. “Joe Root.” The words are soft but his eyes are tight at the corners. “Why do you think my car is still yellow? The colours will change back when I’ve sorted myself out apparently. I haven’t.”

Oh.

Kez wheezes a pained laugh. “Oh,” he murmurs.

“Who is it? I’ve told you mine, now you tell me yours.”

Kez closes his eyes, palming down his face, and deflates, shoulders hunching as he tangles his fingers together. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Alex, it’s the entire reason your magic is erratic. The sneezing will go away but what if you mess something up in the dressing room? What if you accidentally make something fly? What if you’re so exhausted, you’re not paying attention and you levitate? Of course it matters.”

“Jos, I—I can’t.”

Nobody knows, Kez thinks helplessly. Nobody knows. He hasn’t told anyone. Keeping one secret had made him good at keeping the rest. Nobody had found out, not even the ever-intuitive, clued-in Glenn Maxwell.

There’s a hand on his shoulder and Kez looks up to find Jos standing beside him, eyes gentle. “Who is it, Alex?”

His throat feels like needles as he swallows. A shiver races down his spine. “Kane.” The name rips of out his throat, soft as the petal of a rose, shrouded in thorns and shivering with embarrassment. “It’s Kane. Richardson.”

Jos’ hand tightens on the curve of his shoulder, squeezing warm and comforting. Kez can feel the strange newness of Jos’ magic in that touch, radiating across his skin. It feels like a muffled lightning storm.

“Thanks,” he murmurs as the shivers disappear. His cheeks burn. “Thank you, for all of this.”

Jos sighs and he sits down next to Kez on the edge of the bed. “Thank you for telling me.” He glances at his watch. It’s almost seven in the morning. “I should get going before someone comes looking for me.”

He turns to Kez. “But tell me if you need anything else, okay? I’ll try to help as much as I can. The colour-changing should fade after a couple of days, probably when whatever is worrying you sorts itself out.”

Jos slips out the door with a reassuring smile. “Call me, Alex.”

Kez nods. He shuts the door and leans his head on it for a moment. The relief only lasts so long before his nose prickles.

He spins away, makes sure he’s not touching anything before the sneeze rips out of him. Thankfully, the floor stays blood red.

Chest aching, he slips down until he’s resting against the wall by the door, exhausted. Eyes closed, he thinks of hazel eyes and a laughing mouth, long hair messy after a game.

Right. His magic was acting up because he’d been avoiding Kane as much as he could afford to since they landed in England. It’s taken a magical cold to remind him he’s entirely fucked.

Great.

“You need to get a grip,” he mutters aloud.

A knock at his door startles him.

He jumps up, eyes wide, and peers through the peephole. JL. He couldn’t answer the door. His hair is still _blue_. The faint glimmer of blue light off the metallic peephole tells him his eyes are still glowing.

Shit.

“Alex? It’s Justin, mate, open up.” Another knock.

Kez pushes the panic beneath the trapdoor he usually reserves for the field, casting his eyes around for something until he sees the beanie on the table. He dives for it, pulling it down over his ears. He stares around the room which looked like something off children's television, splashed in bright colours. Shit, he hadn’t even noticed the waste paper basket was sky blue.

_I cast a glamour over it with my next breath. _

That’s it.

Kez takes a deep breath, dredges every ounce of strength he can, and snaps his fingers.

Heat blooms from his chest outwards, races through him and out of his fingertips. The room ripples.

When he opens his eyes, magic buzzing under his skin, the glamour wavers. But it holds. He throws a glance in the bathroom mirror and his eyes are no longer glowing.

He opens the door.

JL looks at him for a moment. “Jesus, Alex, you look like shit.”

Kez sniffles, managing a laugh. His magic strains to hold as JL glances into the room behind him. The effort that takes in his state probably helps with his pitiful appearance. “Thanks, Alfie. Just what a man wants to hear.”

“You need anything? I'm not sure you can make it down the hall, let alone to the game.”

“Yeah. I’ve been up since four and walking across the room makes my head spin,” he says, pathetically as possible. He internally cheers in victory when JL’s eyes soften. “I’d be useless. Give Pete the gloves.”

JL hums in agreement. “Alright—”

“Could you let the boys know I’m contagious and not to come up? I’d rather not get them all with whatever it is that I’ve caught.”

JL nods. “Yeah, thinks that’s our best bet right now. I’ll send the doc up later to check on you. Rest well.”

As soon as the door shut, the glamour snaps back and Kez totters on his feet, stumbling back before catching himself with a hand on the wall. That was more tiring than it should have been.

The room explodes in colour and Kez sighs out a laugh before sliding into bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kane finds Jos in Kez's room. Misunderstandings ensue.

When he wakes up again to the buzzing of his phone on the nightstand, the bed is forest green and the pillows are highlighter blue.

He chuckles lightly and reaches for his phone. It’s just past nine and his inbox is flooded with messages from the team, ranging from a normal get well soon to a long-winded nonsense message from Stoin about missing his arse out on the field.

He replies to them all and is just about to sit up when there’s a quick rap of knuckles on the door.

“Quick, open up, Alex, it’s Jos.”

Kez leaps to his feet, knowing from Maxi’s message they haven’t left the hotel yet, and curses his spinning head as he lurches to open the door.

Jos steps inside with a laugh. “Sorry,” he says, flustered. “Was running from Chris, figured this would be a place he’d never look.”

“Why’re you running from Woakes?” Kez asks, laughing, as they wander further into the room.

“Joe stole his lucky socks yesterday and it’s been pinned on me.”

Kez glances at the smile on Jos’ face and grins. “You really are in love with him.”

Besotted sparkle fading from his eyes, Jos throws him a look that very clearly tells him to shut the hell up. He drops onto the couch. “So tell me about Kane.”

Kez glares at the teasing grin and flops back into bed.

*

Jos stays until Joe texts him that the coast is clear but as soon as he opens the door, he almost walks face-first into Kane’s fist, raised to knock.

Kez’s glamour snaps up in a split second as soon as Jos’ exclamation of _“Holy shit—Kane! Hey, mate,”_ sounds from the hallway near the door.

Fuck.

It’s like all of his energy sweeps out of him, his magic flaring until he can almost feel his eyes glowing hot. The glamour wavers but he digs in, spirals down into himself until he can hold it steady, glad that the beanie is still on his head.

He glances at his reflection in the tv and waits for the few seconds it takes for his eyes to return to semi-normal before he fakes a sleepy groan and pushes off the bed.

Kane is staring at Jos with a frown, opening his mouth to say something when he spots Kez over Jos’ shoulder and his dark hazel eyes widen.

“You look—”

“Like shit, I know, JL said,” Kez interrupts, having none of the energy he needs to hear Kane say he does, in fact, look like shit. Even if it’s true, the words would burn a little. He quirks a smile. “What’re you doing here? I thought you left.”

“I forgot my jersey, and I thought I’d check on you before I left again,” Kane says, eyes flicking to Jos who’s still standing inside the door. He looks back at Kez. “I thought you were contagious.”

There’s an undercurrent of accusation beneath the light words and Kez sucks in a quiet breath. “He was just hiding from Woakes, something about lucky socks. If he gets sick, it’s on him.” He can’t help the grin he shoots Jos. “You’d better get going before your boy finds you fraternising with the enemy before a match, Jossie.”

Jos’ eyes flicker with lightning. “An incapacitated enemy is a friend, babes.”

Kez laughs. “Go, Jos, or Morgs will find out like last time and I’ll be the one in trouble. Again.”

“Nah, wouldn’t let him do that,” Jos says, winking as he steps past Kane into the corridor. “He knows we’re mates now.”

He disappears with a salute and a meaningful look thrown at Kane. Kez chooses to ignore him.

Kane arches an eyebrow as he leans against the doorframe. His hair is fluffy and shining in waves around his face, eyes bright, the dark scruff lining his jaw highlighting the bitten-pink of his lower lip. Kez aches inside but shakes himself, fingers curling into a fist as the glamour inside the open room threatens to fall away.

“What’s he really doing here?”

“He really was hiding from Woakes, I swear.” Kez shrugs. “Aren’t you going to be late, PBK?”

Kane’s sharp eyes soften at the nickname and he pushes off the wall, stepping up close to Kez and reaching out to lift his chin with gentle fingers. Hazel eyes sweep over his face and Kez can feel the flush starting to burn across his cheeks. He swallows, concentration fraying. He tightens his fists.

“Get some rest, Ty, we need you out there,” Kane murmurs, thumb sweeping along the line of his jaw and under his left eye before pulling away. “I’ll see you later.”

As he flicks two fingers into a salute and heads down the hallway, Kez leaps back into the room—a decision he regrets when his head pounds—and shuts the door, letting the glamour slip free.

His heart is racing, the warmth of Kane’s touch lingering on his skin, and he tears the beanie off off his head, clenching a hand into his hair and fighting a useless battle against the smile that spills across his face.

A sneeze barrels through him, leaving his vision spotty for a moment. The beanie in his hands has gone from regulation CA to the colour of Kane’s mouth.

Great.

*

“I think Jos Buttler is dating our keeper,” Kane mutters to Adam, Marcus and Coults. 

Unfortunately for him, the general hum of noise in the dressing room falling and the music pausing between songs coincides and his sullen words are clear to the entire room. 

The entire team is staring at him. Someone reaches over to lower the volume as Jimmy Barnes croons over the speakers. Marcus mutters a silent, _"Thank fuck for that," _under his breath.

Kane falters. “Uh...”

“Jos Buttler is dating our keeper?” Finchy says. He looks almost dazed. He suddenly snaps up, eyes wide. “I saw him this morning!” 

Kane gestures at Finchy as if to prove his point. “I saw him just then too, leaving Kez’s room!” 

Finchy frowns. “Just then? No, I saw him coming to Kez’s room at like six this morning but I thought I was hallucinating because—well, that’s not important but, are you saying you saw him just then? When you went back?” 

Kane nods slowly. 

Finchy pauses. Then sighs out, “Fuck.” 

Maxi crows in delight. “Kezza boy’s growing up, lads! Can’t say I approve of an Englishman but if I had to choose any one of them, Buttler is probably the best choice.” 

A few laughs come from around the group. 

Marnus snickers next to Pete. “If I had to choose from any of that lot, Jos is my only choice. He’s hot. For a pomme.” 

There’s an outpouring of amusement at that even as Pete whacks Marnus backhanded across the chest with a keeping glove and a roll of his eyes. 

All Kane feels is static shock coursing through him like a tidal wave. Buttler had been with Kez since six am?! 

JL clears his throat. “Boys, when I went to see him, Jos wasn’t there." Kane hates to be playing devil but it isn't like there aren't any places to hide, particularly since JL is unlikely to have done a thorough room search at the time. But, whatever. "But before we all jump to conclusions, I suggest asking Alex when he’s well.” 

“You said he was contagious!” Kane can’t help the words that explode out of him. The ugly feeling coiling at the pit of his stomach feels a lot like betrayal. “You—you practically threatened us to not see him!” 

JL sighs, rubbing his brow. “Kane, how can I control what an English player does? My instructions were for you to avoid any of you catching whatever got Alex down.” He throws a pointed look around the room. “And if Buttler goes down, would that not make our lives easier?” 

There’s a buzz of agreement. Kane has to begrudgingly agree. But that feeling squirming in his stomach like a live thing makes the back of his throat taste bitter and his heart clench. 

Marcus claps a hand to his shoulder. “Sorry, Richo. I know you—”

“Don’t. It doesn’t matter.” He shrugs off the hand and heads for the door, nails biting into the brim of the floppy yellow in his hands. 

*

Kez winces as Jos hits the second consecutive six off Pat, watching on screen as it sails over the boundary down the ground and Jos leaps into the air at the end of the pitch, bringing up his century. Pat stands on the pitch, hands on his hips, nose scrunched up and teeth bared in a pained smile.

Three balls later, Kane bowls clean through his off stump, the power of it kicking the stump out of the ground with a clatter, sending the stump mic flying. 

Kane’s teeth are bared and he roars as the team converges around him, the spidercam circling above the group as Jos walks off to a standing ovation from the Oval. The burning molten glance at Jos’ back is caught in blistering high definition as the sun slants into Kane’s eyes. 

Kez swallows. 

The sweeping camera catches the tail-end of the amused looks shared between Stoin, Adam and Coults. Kez wonders what Jos did to earn that ferocity from Kane. 

The match drones on and Kez’s fidgeting increases and increases as the run chase takes them into the last over. Three balls to go and England needs four runs to win. 

The next ball is a dot, Steve diving what feels like half a mile to his right to stop a slog from Stokes. Kez feels nauseous and it has nothing to do with his cold. 

The second last ball goes for two and Kez is treated to a close-up high definition shot of Aaron biting through his nails as he glances around the field. Coults looks murderous as he walks forward from the boundary. 

Kez is bleeding from the crescent-shaped indentations on his palms. 

The last ball from Stoin, the last ball of the match, rips through Roy’s middle stump, slipping between bat and pad like a warm knife through butter. 

The stump clatters to the ground. 

The Oval ricochets with disappointment, quickly followed by stunned silence. 

Kez slumps to the ground at the foot of the bed, knees giving way, head pounding all over again as his boys converge on a roaring Stoin with elation almost visibly shimmering the air around them. 

That’s until he realises that it’s the air in his own room that’s shimmering. 

Kez barks out a laugh, a palm pressed to his forehead as he watches the replay of the last wicket. 

His heart is pounding so hard, it’s shaking his entire body. 

He focuses back to the screen as the teams are shaking hands. Jos’ grin at Kane is knowing in that split second. Kane’s mouth is firm and his eyes are smouldering. 

Kez drowns out the pit growing in his stomach with relieved laughter as the broadcast cuts off into commercials. 

*

“Thought he was supposed to go down,” Kane hisses at JL as they trudge off the field.

JL spares him a look that tells him he’ll be running extra laps tomorrow.

Kane finds he doesn’t have a single fuck left to give.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More misunderstandings, revelations and rings. But if Kez manages to get Jos to confess, at least something would be going right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been exactly a month since I posted this. But an update at last! It starts off directly after the match mentioned in the previous chapter.

Jos sneaks back to his room later that evening, shoulders a little lower and a weary smile on his lips. 

“You played well,” Kez says when Jos flops down onto the sofa. He smiles when Jos looks at him. “It sucks, I know. I’m sorry.”

“Are you though?” Jos’ smile is genuine when he flashes his teeth. “Just annoying when you play well and lose like that.” 

Kez tosses Jos an apple in compensation. The silence lingers, comfortable and pleasant, for a few moments. Kez isn't pressed to fill it and Jos doesn't seem in a hurry, content enough to be in each other's company. 

He's idly making his kit bag pack itself, watching his batting gloves slot themselves next to his keeping ones, when Jos laughs suddenly.

“What?” 

Jos spins the apple in his hands, chuckling as he rolls it across his knuckles into his palm. “Kane Richardson is a nice bloke, I’ve met him a few times, you know? But today, today is the closest I have ever seen the man to murderous. He was out there for my blood and my blood only.” 

Kez scowls. “He was not.” 

“He likes you,” Jos says bluntly and Kez chokes. “He likes you and he did not enjoy seeing me in your room.”

“Jos, that’s fucking ridiculous.” 

He gets a pointed silence in return. The apple tumbles by itself in the air. 

“He doesn’t. I just don’t reckon he was expecting to see you or any other English player in my hotel room the morning before a crucial match.” 

“Alex,” Jos says, letting the apple fall back into his hands. “You didn’t see the look he gave me when we ran into each other before the second innings.” He shakes his head with a grin. “Could have easily stripped paint.” 

“You stumped him for a five-ball duck, Jos, reckon it was just in the spirit of the game,” Kez says. 

Jos tosses the apple in the air. “Be that as it may, there was something a touch more personal in every single one of his overs at me. Like he wanted to take off my head but had to settle for throwing a leather ball at me instead.” 

Kez rolls his eyes. “He could do worse with a leather ball.” 

Jos laughs. “He could, but actually nailing me with a bouncer and sending me to the hospital might have been a step too far for a jealous rage.” 

“He’s not jealous, stop staying he’s jealous, he isn’t. Jealous,” Kez hisses finally, exasperated. 

Jos is laughing hard enough that he’s gone all pink and blushy. “That is the first time I’ve said that word.”

“Shut up. Oi, if you’re so smug, why don’t you tell me about Root so I can laugh at you too?”

  
* 

Twenty minutes later, he isn’t laughing but he wishes he was because Jos is an even bigger idiot than he is. 

Kez groans and rubs a hand down his face. “Jos, if you know he likes you too, why haven’t you done anything?” 

Jos stares are him, wide-eyes. “Because I’m not suicidal? Because he’s a good mate? Because I’m not an idiot?” 

“You are the _biggest _idiot. You overheard Roy tell Joe to get his act together and confess to you, _after_ you specifically heard Joe say that he likes you too much to be just mates, and you still refuse to even try. Tell me how that makes sense.”

“It did before you put it like that.” 

Kez snorts and sits up, clapping his hands. “Alright, come on. Look at me.” 

Jos jerks like a doll when Kez yanks him up using his arm. He sighs and raises his eyes to Kez. They’re sparking like lightning through storm clouds. “What?” 

“Look me in the eyes. Pretend I’m Joe.” When Jos makes a face, Kez taps his wrist. “Come on, Jos. I might not be as pretty to look at but pretend I’m Joe and just say it.” 

“Alex, you’re very pretty but this is still weird.” 

“Shut up, that’s not the point.” When Jos groans, Kez sighs. “Jos, don’t be a coward, mate, do it.” 

“Fine! Fine.” Jos shakes himself, straightening his shoulders. And swallows. His eyes steady on Kez’s. A few moments pass in excruciating silence, Jos' face twisting and cringing, before Jos clears his throat. “Um, so, I, Joe, I...I just—oh my god, I cannot do this.” He collapses in on himself, palms over his face. 

Kez reaches out for Jos’ knee, settling his open palm on it and lets the warmth of his magic radiate out. “You can,” he says softly. “Get it out once, it’ll help.” 

“Your magic reminds me of fire,” Jos mutters from behind his hands. “Like...winter and snow and a crackling log fire.” 

“Poetic,” Kez murmurs. “But save the prose for someone who’ll appreciate it, Buttler.” 

“You, Alex Carey, are awful,” Jos mutters under his breath. “The world reckons you’re an absolute sweetheart but you are _mean_.” 

_Now, Alan. Alan Carey is the bloke you want to meet._

Kez grins as he remembers Adam’s words. He’s nice enough but he’s not a doormat. He’s got personality, thanks. 

Jos finally rolls his shoulders back and looks to the ceiling before lowering his hands. His entire face is flushed. He clamps his hand over Kez’s on his knee, fingertips white, and takes a deep breath, opening his eyes. 

“Joe,” he murmurs. His eyes are a piercing blue, relatively normal but Kez can see the strain of controlling his magic as the air around Jos wavers like blistering heat off asphalt. “I love you. I’m in love with you.” 

A grin breaks across Kez’s face as Jos holds for barely two seconds before a reverberating groan echoing with embarrassment explodes from him and he tips forward into Kez and Kez catches him, squeezing him into a hug.

“Love you too, Jossie,” Kez says, laughing into Jos’ hair. 

Jos just groans again, face planted in Kez’s shoulder. “I hate him so much I could die from it.” 

Kez pats his back. “Sure you do,” he says dryly. “I’m sure you do.” 

*

_“...love you.” _

Kane stalls in his tracks, hackles rising as the soft, accent-tinged voice of Buttler filters through the door to Kez’s room as he’s walking past. 

_“I’m in love with you.” _

Oh. 

Kane closes his eyes and breathes in shakily before he stares down at the reddening crescents crushed into his palms. 

A laugh comes, delighted and drenched in sunshine. Kane’s heart leaps to his throat. 

_“Love you too, Jossie,”_ Kez says. 

The crescents blur. The slow shatter of his own longing heart is agony. 

Hands curling back into fists, Kane takes a slow shaking breath and continues on his way down the hall towards Adam’s room. 

It was his own fault for hoping anyway. 

*

When Kez returns to the dressing room, there are knowing looks draped over the hearty congratulations on being back, and he throws an eye over the shit-eating grins and muffled giggles as he drops his kit onto a bench. He isn’t playing today, still technically being rested, but he is there in case they need him. Besides, there’s an undercurrent of tension in his magic that keeps threatening to snap and he has to exert at least half his energy in keeping it quiet. Playing would be a mistake. But staying holed up in his room has been torture. Pummeling his magic into submission through sheer frustration and will power had been the only, if temporary, solution.

After an hour of barely-hidden sly looks caught from the corner of his eye and nudges of elbows into him with waggling eyebrows, he has had enough. 

“Alright, that’s it!” 

He tosses the twisted bat grip he had been fixing for Steve—manually, because he is a normal person here, and unable to wiggle his fingers and will the stupid thing to unroll magically—onto the bench and spins around. The room falls relatively silent as his voice rises. 

“What is it? What’s going on?” 

When more silence greets him, Kez crosses his arms. 

“Why are you all acting like you know something I don’t?” 

Not a sound comes despite the knowing looks traded around. 

JL’s exasperated huff sounds from the room off to the side. “I’ve raised a team of cowards,” comes his resigned sigh. “They’ve all assumed you’re dating Buttler.” 

JL appears in the doorway in the wake of that revelation, leaving Kez gaping at his shifty-eyed, squirming teammates. 

“Now, Alex, it’s fine if you are—in fact, all the power to you, but be careful,” JL says, eyes warm despite the warning. “The game is changing but not fast enough.” 

Kez inhales. Opens his mouth. At a loss, he closes it. Nods. “Yes, Coach.” Then he throws a withering glare at Kane, whose shoulders are up at his ears, resolutely turned away from him. “Just to clarify, despite whatever you heard, I’m not fucking dating Jos Buttler.” 

To his surprise, it’s Finchy who speaks up. 

“Alex, it’s...it’s honestly fine if you are.” Hesitant words, though he stands strong. A hint of a teasing smile curls his lips, canines sharp. “Wasn’t just Richo, you know. I saw him slip into your room this morning again at like six.” 

Blood drains from his face. Oh shit. Oh fuck. 

“Ah,” he says weakly. 

Wait—

_“Again?!”_ Kez hisses. 

Finchy arches an eyebrow. 

_Fuck. _

There is a smattering of laughter and a coughed, “Busted.”

It takes every inch of self-control and training he has not to let his reeling magic lash out towards that voice. 

“We aren’t dating, we are not together,” Kez says again. “For Christ’s sake, I swear—“

A knock comes from the door. 

Every head swings to the open doorway where Jos Buttler stands with a thermos in his hands. Laughter explodes through the room. With a sinking feeling, Kez stuffs down the sudden whirl of magic and meets Jos’ sheepish grin with a resigned one of his own. 

“Speaketh of the devil and he shalleth appear,” Maxi says all too cheerfully. 

Jos arches an eyebrow but doesn’t address it beyond an amused look at Kez which he returns with a roll of his eyes. Instead, he glances at JL. 

“Could I come in for a moment? I have something for Alex.” He holds up the thermos. “I promise it isn’t poison.” 

JL waves him in and disappears back into the smaller room with the other team staff. 

Kez can’t help the half-grin that widens into a real one as Jos picks his way through a minefield of kit bags and laser-sharp glances. “Brave venture into enemy territory. Though mentioning poison might not have been a great idea.”

“We talked about this, Alex,” and his voice is teasing, almost overly so as he shoots a look at the players around them, “an incapacitated enemy—“

“Is a friend,” Kez finishes, laughing. “Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time. But it isn’t just me here.” 

Jos laughs, bright, eyes almost shining just this side of unreal. “Anyway here, I brought you this. Did a little research, spoke to some people, this should help with the thing.” 

Kez takes the thermos, surprised. “Oh, thanks! Thank you...what is it?” 

Jos throws a quick glance around the room of listening but loudly pretending to not be listening Australian players and grins teasingly as he says, “It’s magic, baby.”

Kez stares blankly at him for a moment before rolling his eyes. “You should spend less time with Root, your sense of humour is deteriorating.” 

Jos makes his eyes flash a hint of lightning and Kez stifles a laugh. It’s refreshing, this ability to share his secret with someone so openly, without stifling an entire part of himself away. Kez thinks that maybe Jos sees that too when he smiles back at him. 

“Twice a day with food,” Jos murmurs, softer now. His eyes are serious. “There’s a small cup in the lid. The bottle should last you a week, it'll work slowly. You should be right but it'll depend on the strength of your feelings." Kez cannot stifle the wince and Jos' eyes crinkle slightly. "Text me if you think you need more.” 

The metal of the thermos is warming under his hands and Kez tightens his grip, swallowing. “Twice a day with food, got it. Thanks, thank you so much, Jos, you’re the best.”

Jos reaches out to squeeze his arm, hand curling around his elbow. It stays there for a moment, comforting and reassuring. “Anytime.” 

Something wrenches apart with a loud crack. 

The box that had been in Kane’s hands has split into pieces, broken right through into several pieces of useless plastic, now hanging in his hands. 

Kez arches an eyebrow at the thunderous cloud darkening Kane’s expression, pulling back the flare of his magic which aches to swirl around those broad shoulders and comfort. 

Jos’ hastily stifled laugh catches his attention. 

“What?”

Jos is grinning wide, eyes creased, dimples deep, and his voice is soft but so amused when he says, “That was impressive, is all.” He clears his throat, throwing another glance at Kane before looking at Kez. “I’ll see you later, babe.” 

His sinking feeling had been right. 

Could he not play with fire? 

He glares at Jos. “Yeah, sure.” 

Jos just grins back, unrepentant. 

“Drink the magical potion,” he throws back as he flees the room on a quick power-walk, leaving Kez grinning and looking down at the thermos in his hand that’s humming with traces of Jos’ wild elemental magic. 

“Magic?” Davey snorts. “Really?” 

“You still gonna deny you’re dating?” Maxi asks, grinning. “Because that didn’t help you.”

Kez is well aware that didn’t help. Still, he snaps back. “I’m not dating him.” 

The room rings with a whiplash of disbelieving snorts. 

Whatever. 

* 

Jos flicks something at him as they cross paths in the stadium hallway in the innings break, Jos in his pale blue kit and Kez in yellow with the neon orange drinks vest. 

The thing catches the light and Kez plucks it out of the air with a huff. When he looks down at it, it’s a cast-iron ring. 

“Where on earth did you get a proper iron ring?” He asks, looking up at a smiling Jos. 

He gets a shrug. “I do have some magical ability, Alex. It just took some time to make, that’s all. And I didn’t think giving you a ring in your dressing room would go down too well.” 

Yeah, probably not. 

“You _made_ this?” Kez brushes a thumb over the smooth, shimmering black surface of the ring, admiring the vein of deep red-bronze edged in pale gold curving around the centre. The red metal warms beneath the touch. The iron is terrifyingly icy. “Is that—where did you find crimson ore?” 

“Mum has sources,” Jos murmurs, grinning. “How’s my metalwork, eh? Lightning magic comes in handy occasionally.” 

“It’s gorgeous.” Kez sighs and steels himself as he slips it over his right middle finger. “Though...”

The ever-present hum of magic under his skin snuffs out like a candle in the wind. A shiver races down his spine at the sudden silence inside him, making him squirm. A weakened noise slips out of him. 

“That’s horrendous,” he murmurs, rolling his shoulders back. His entire body seems to quiver. “I hate this, whoa, it's...it's all gone. Just like that." He shudders. "Desperate times, I guess.”

Jos is watching with a sympathetic wince. “I tried it on and I can safely say I never want to feel like that again. But your core shouldn’t suffer too much, the ore should help with that.” 

“Thanks, Jos,” Kez says quietly. He twists the ring around, unable to stop touching the warm crimson ore surrounded by cold iron. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.” 

A warm hand captures his wrist and soft blue eyes catch his when Kez looks up. 

“Erratic magic isn’t a reason to miss what’s meant to be the best summer of your life. You’re a good mate.” Jos squeezes once before letting his hand fall away. “Besides, if you’re behind the stumps when I’m batting, at least the banter will be amusing. Handscomb has absolutely horrible chat out there.” 

Kez grins. “That’s definitely true.”

“Alex.” 

Adam’s voice comes from the other end of the hallway and Kez winces. Oh. _Oh,_ that’s not good. That's very much not good. The last time Adam had used his actual name, they had been a good deal younger and playing for the Redbacks as fresh meat. But when he looks up, Adam does nothing but throw half a glance at Jos before he looks down at the ring and back at Kez. His face is unreadable. 

Kez is distantly proud of how steady his voice is when he manages to speak. “Yeah, Zamp?” 

“Coach wants us back for a quick chat.” 

“Be right there.” 

Adam disappears back around the corner and Kez lets out a slow, pained groan. 

“Do you think he saw?” Jos asks quietly. 

Kez sighs. “Yeah. Yeah, he definitely saw.” 

“I take it that’s not good.”

No, it’s definitely not good. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed it hahaha I'm making up the magical elements as I go along from the numerous fantasy novels I've read along the way, so hopefully, it's not too jarring. Comment and let me know what you think! Thanks guys x

**Author's Note:**

> So let me know, thoughts, feelings, comments. Thanks for reading!


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